


Hanzo's Sharp Eyes

by shenanigans0830



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Gen, Genji why, Hanzo notices things. Part 254637, Team Bonding, Team as Family, Widow is scary af
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-28
Updated: 2017-03-29
Packaged: 2018-09-27 10:31:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10011326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shenanigans0830/pseuds/shenanigans0830
Summary: Hanzo tends to know more than he lets on.Is this a good thing?...Eh.





	1. Footsteps

Hanzo Shimada was always aware of his surroundings. As a sniper of sorts, he had to be. 

Whether those surroundings be the battlefield, the city, or even the grocery store (we don’t talk about that incident) - you wouldn't catch Hanzo Shimada off-guard. But Hanzo certainly had a knack for catching others off-guard. Physically, mentally, emotionally, and every other way you can imagine.

Hanzo pressed his fingers to his temples in exasperation. Genji was supposed to be an assassin. And yet, here his brother was, clinking and clanking his way across the Gibraltar base’s roof in a futile attempt to sneak up on him, just as they would do as kids. The clanking was reminiscent of a pathetic toaster mournfully attempting to fulfill its life’s purpose. He suppressed a snort at the thought. 

A wide smirk donned his face as he effortlessly darted across the roof, weaving around the various structures as he set his sights on victory once again, despite it only being a childish game. He let his youth run free, if only for the sake of old times. To remember the past in a better light. 

He soundlessly landed behind Genji, who didn’t appear to notice. He roughly seized his brother’s shoulders, just as their formerly impetuous selves would. Genji jolted up and turned to look behind him, shock evident in his frantic, yet almost comical movements. 

“Ah! What -“

Genji’s shoulders dropped as he realized who got him.

“Oh.”

Hanzo gazed at him smugly. Genji shook his head, failing to hide his chuckles. 

“Just like old times, brother. You always were better at stealth. Father would always…” Genji trailed off, getting lost in thought. A few seconds later, he seemed to realized what he was doing and absentmindedly uttered,

“…You haven’t changed at all, brother.”

Hanzo was tempted to let out a melancholic laugh. He finally inspected his brother’s new form in its entirety, as he had been too disturbed to in the past. He gazed at Genji’s now metallic, mechanized legs, which, in the past, allowed him to run and climb with such dexterity that even Hanzo envied. He remembered cutting, hacking, and gashing them till they gave out, coated in a sickening scarlet liquor. His eyes moved to his brother’s machinelike arms, which he used to strengthen so passionately, were now made of nothing but inanimate iron. He recalled slashing and shredding them till Genji could no longer hold his sword. His gazed shifted again, moving to Genji’s chest. The cybernetic chest that did not shift, twitch, or even quiver in the very slightest. It merely vibrated slightly as an indication that his brother was, say, “on.” 

It did not breathe. 

“…And yet you have changed so much.”

Hanzo didn’t have to see his face to know that his face fell. Genji stared at the ground for a few seconds, before glancing back up. He would try to console him, try to solace him, try to mollify the guilt that eroded him from the inside out.

“Brother, you can’t – “

“I can.” He glared firmly. Genji huffed in frustration, and shook his head. 

“Brother, even if you can, I do not want you to. I do not want you to suffer any longer. I don’t want you to destroy yourself, I – “

“I am sorry.” He felt his eyes water, but he resisted. Genji was silenced for a moment before trying again.

“Brother, it is fine. I forgave you a long time ago. Now, I wish for you to forgive yourself.” Genji considered his words for a moment, and continued. 

“It will not be easy, I am sure… But I want things to be okay. As much as it does not seem like it, we are both still alive. I did not waste my second chance at life, brother, and I think you should not waste yours, anija.” 

Hanzo sighed. Genji, as always, knew just how to sway his obstinate mind. Now he just felt awful. But what else was new?

“To start your new life, brother… Show me how you always win our game.” Hanzo raised his brow skeptically. He supposed he had to start somewhere…

“Have I ever told you that your footsteps sound like a fizzling toaster, brother?” Genji snorted. 

Genji thought for a moment, and asked, “Brother, have you been avoiding me by listening to my footsteps?”

“No.”

“Of course, brother. Why would you ever…” Genji gazed at him mockingly. Hanzo wanted to avoid the guilt, to avoid seeing what he had turned his brother to, avoid the dull ache that never left his chest, even if - 

Genji let out a fake cough, noticing his discomfort. Yet, he continued to utilize his knowledge of Hanzo’s pride, and his mastery of changing the topic.

“Well, if you weren’t avoiding me particularly… How do the steps of our comrades sound like?”

“… What?”

“If my steps sound like a dying toaster, how do McCree’s steps sound like?”

A smirk tugged at his cheek as he considered his words. “A ticking time bomb.”

“… To high noon?” 

“… Stop.”

“Never.”

“You are the worst.”

“…I am aware. Thank you for the reminder.”

“Ugh.”

“…You love me, brother.”

“…”


	2. The Satisfaction of Silence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hanzo makes a friend. Kinda.... Not really...  
> Who knows?

Hanzo Shimada was not, by any means, a fidgety person. Since he was raised as an assassin, he had to be.

But that’s not to say that his teammates weren’t. 

Even just sitting in the common room drove him crazy. The incessant foot tapping of Commander Morrison, Junkrat’s ceaseless twitching and giggling, the obnoxious crunching of Doritos, and other irritating noises, along with the continual chatter of the team threatened to drive him insane. Silence simply didn’t exist on an Overwatch base.

Now, Hanzo was a topnotch complainer that certainly had the capacity to whine, but he had better things to grumble about than Overwatch’s unchangeable lack of silence. And if it were any other day, he wouldn’t have minded. Unfortunately, it wasn’t.

“Hey, luv… You okay?” 

He glanced up, taking his head out of his hands, before shaking his head. Tracer sent him a concerned look as she turned away, not looking to pry. Thankfully. He returned his head to his hands.

In short, it had been a rough day. The second he woke up, he felt… distracted. First things first, in a tired daze, he put 4 tea leaves in his morning tea. But he always put 3. Always. Next, the pantry was out of “anything good,” and he was forced to eat McCree’s “special” American cereal. (Which mind you, was disgustingly dry.) He was also too absentminded to look at the milk’s expiration date, leaving him with a mouthful of sour milk and an empty stomach. As if his morning wasn’t already grating enough, he also forgot about a mission briefing that started an hour before said realization…Let’s just say Morrison’s stink eye is not a pleasant experience. 

To make things worse, he developed a stinging headache on the flight to the mission site. Because of that, he didn’t land a single arrow that entire operation. It was pathetic. And of course, because of his incompetence, he got himself shot. Just wonderful. 

And here he was, head pounding profusely, bleeding, and hating life in general. He wanted nothing more than to collapse on his bed and end his suffering. 

Tap-tap-tap-tap-tap—

Alas, that was not to be. 

Mercy’s impatient hand wringing,

Crnnk-twitch-crnnk-twitch-shuffle—

Bastion’s constant beeps and mechanical whirrs,

Beep-boop-bweep-boop-bweee—

Tracer’s restless blinking,

Click-click-whoosh-click-click-whoosh—

Reinhardt’s boisterous laughter, 

Haha-ahahaha-haha—

And that wasn’t even considering the relentless chitchat of the group…

He just couldn’t stand it.

Crrnk-twitch---beep-boop—click-click-whoosh—haha-ahahah— an endless torture.

Hanzo rarely ever talked in the first place, and when he did, it was often respectful and brief.

 

“Can you all just SHUT up?”

 

Well.

A dead silence filled the plane, his teammates staring at him, petrified. They shared glances, a mix of guilt and uncertainty. 

Everyone on the plane attempted to quiet themselves, some noises ceasing, and others were understandably inescapable. Either way, Hanzo did his best to calm himself, somewhat mortified at his reckless action, but relished in the quiet. He dreaded the moment he would have to step onto base, and be bombarded with more insufferable commotions.

Luckily for him, when he stepped off the plane, all his teammates seemed to notice his unhappy disposition, and avoided him like the plague. The only thing that had gone good for him today – being more antisocial than usual. Excellent. 

Not wanting to push his luck further, he headed straight for his room. He sped through the hallways, dodging anyone he saw, and many avoided him right back. As he neared his room, he felt relief settle over him… until he saw what was placed in his way to liberation.

A cool, slim figure stood in front of his door, with seemingly no intention to move. She glanced calmly in his direction.

“Et voilà. We need to talk, Monsieur Shimada.” He gazed at her skeptically, as she had never approached him or even spoke a word to him. At this point, his name sounded odd on her tongue. 

“What must we talk about,” he paused to remember her last name, “…LaCroix-san.” He cringed at himself as she chuckled dryly. 

“Would you mind letting me in, Monsieur?”

“…Fine.”

“Merci, Shimada.” She sent him a smug grin, which tempted him into smacking her alongside the head, but he somewhat valued his life, and utilized self-control. Although, he had to admit, at least she didn’t have any bothersome habits…

She briefly looked around his austere room, and appeared to make her personal judgements before turning to him. 

“Look, Monsieur. I need you to understand something.” He raised his brow. Her heels clicked against the floor quietly as she approached him, in a way, sizing him up. “I am the only one who can hiss, spit, and complain about the ceaseless noise on this base. Only I. You may be a sniper, but you will not take my sole obligation. Do you understand?”

“…”

“Do you?” She might as well have been holding a knife to his neck.

“Yes… yes, yes, I understand. I also apologize… On any other day, I would never even consider saying a word. Today has been… unfortunate, to say the least. I apologize for, ah, challenging your “complainer” throne, LaCroix-san.” She stared at him cynically, as if finding at least fifty different ways to kill him on the spot. (She probably was.)

This woman was terrifyingly fascinating. 

“Ah. Well, you are forgiven. For now.” He frowned.

“You are not angry?” She laughed darkly.

“I don’t get mad, I get even.” He felt a chill run up his spine. “Don’t try to hide. Personne n'échappe à mon regard.” He had no clue what she just said, but he wasn’t about to object.

“… I won’t.” She chuckled.

“Now. Follow me. I have a proposition for you.”

“… That wouldn’t involve me losing my life, yes?”

A snicker. “No.”   
She led him outside of his room, only to—

SMACK.

She literally just slapped him across the face. She turned around as if nothing had ever happened, and began to take her leave.

“Welcome to the Complainer Clique…” She paused. But he seemed to know what she was missing.

“Hanzo.” He paused, carefully considering his words. “…Was that an initiation formality?” She glanced back at him.

“Amélie.” He took that as a yes. Still slightly bewildered, he watched her slip away, her steps discreet, yet somewhat sinister, like a silent bullet heading straight for his head-

He turned around rapidly. 

Nope, nothing headed to kill him yet. 

These people were going to be the end of him. Overwatch was perplexing, to say the least, but perhaps it could be tolerable. Maybe. Just maybe.

 

“BROTHER! I cannot believe you just made friends with the Widowmaker-“

 

He knew he heard a dying toaster somewhere around here. 

(…Never mind, Overwatch was the worst.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for reading!  
> Translations:  
> Et voila: Ah, there you are.  
> Monsieur: Mister.  
> Merci: Thanks.  
> Personne chappe... : Widow's ult./No one can hide from my sight.
> 
> Headcanons of the Day:  
> \- Widowmaker is scary. Like, really scary. Like everyone fears-general-presence-scary. But everyone fearing you can get a bit lonely. That's what the Complainer Clique is for. (Not that they don't fear her, but it's more of a respect thing than a I'm-going-to-shoot-you thing.  
> \- Widowmaker is a sucker for baguettes. It has been told that she once murdered someone with a baguette alone.   
> \- She, however, hates berets with a passion. This is why Tracer gives her a beret at every possible opportunity.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I'll try to update as much as I can. Meanwhile, you just keep on trucking, person reading this!  
> anija - older brother. (I hope it does, at least.)  
> Also, let's add brother to the end of all my sentences, and bang, you've got Genji's dialogue.  
> Okay, I'm done.
> 
> Headcanons of the Day:  
> \- Genji frequently makes fun of McCree's mannerisms, but he only does it as his own special way of showing friendly affection. On that note, he frequently makes fun of everyone else as well. But mainly McCree. 'Cause he's special.  
> \- Genji is a hardcore weeb that watches every high school drama anime... and NARUTO RUN.  
> \- Genji once tried to recreate Fruit Ninja in real life. It is now classified information, codenamed the Banana Incident.   
> (...We don't talk about that.)


End file.
